


et ses cheveux sont dans les miens

by Matrya



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Erica Reyes, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3110846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matrya/pseuds/Matrya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erica enjoys the few weeks of available normality before it all goes to hell. 3B AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	et ses cheveux sont dans les miens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladybubblegum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybubblegum/gifts).



> Written for [ladybubblegum](http://ladybubblegum.tumblr.com) for the [Teen Wolf Femslash Holiday Exchange](http://teenwolffemslashexchange.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.
> 
> My incredibly pretentious title is the second line of _L'amoureuse_ by Samuel Beckett.
> 
> Thank you to M for a quick read through, but all mistakes are mine.

Allison slides into another tree, feeling the force in her ribs as she continues to slip through the muddy carpet of leaves on the forest floor. Still, even with the throbbing in her ribs, she can feel the rise of the moon overhead, slivering through the forest's canopy.

She needs to _howl_ with it.

To howl, though, she would need to stop moving and lose time. Instead, she just keeps throwing her paws forward and ignoring the pain in her ribs, the way her fur catches and rips in bushes as she brushes past in her rush forward.

She follows the feeling, the blood-singing pull that tells her she has a pack and somewhere, close, an alpha. How long has she been gone? She has no idea, but she can feel that there is a place and pack to which she can return.

Even with the tugboat pull, she grows confused as she sprints closer toward the Beacon and closer to the source of the pull. Of pack. There are three directions, tugging at Allison like marionette strings, and she chooses to chase the furthest of them all in a split second.

There must be something strong there if it can be so much further than the others, but so strong in comparison.

The further pull is still close enough, still in the Beacon's territory, but there are homes and people in the distance between. The forest thins and ends at the back of a cul-de-sac and she pauses at that. Around, or through? Where might the hunters find her?

Where might the Alpha Pack find her?

She goes around, following the line of the town and swallowing the extra distance with a hateful whine before she pushes her hind legs to carry her toward that spot, that pull. She gets closer and closer to that pull, until she starts drawing further from the other two. The edge of the town is dark and quiet, lit only by the occasional window from a house and the life from which she is removed.

Something leaps at her side and bowls her over. Another wolf, she realises, howling and thrashing at the weight on top of her.

"Allison!"

She lashes out with a hand. A paw. She lashes out with a paw.

She tries to shake her attacker off, making big movements against the wet carpet of sheets. Of leaves. "Allison!"

Pushing up and throwing the attacker off, Allison looks around the forest.

Not the forest. Her bedroom. She looks around and spots her father on the floor, face wearing the same constant worry it has for weeks. The actual look is worse, but the meaning is the same. He keeps saying her name as if he needs to break through.

She takes in a deep breath through her nose, just to smell something other than mud and her own wet fur. "I'm fine," she promises, eventually, when her father has made it back to his feet and grabbed her shoulder. She is, she just needs time to process. Alone.

Her dad nods at her in that way he does when he knows that what she said was a lie. "Are the dreams getting worse?"

"Dad, no." She shakes her head, pushing her hair back. "It was just a, a regular bad dream." She looks up at him and tries to look reassuring, but probably manages no better than tired and haunted.

"You look scared to death."

Shaking her head, again, she promises, "It was just normal bad." After a pause, she goes on, "There's no, dark stuff. No…no Aunt Kate. I just, it was a bad dream."

He waits for a minute, but eventually squeezes her shoulder. "Get some sleep."

"Sorry I hurt you," she mumbles, reaching up to grab his hand. She just holds it. "Thanks. For waking me up."

"I'm fine." With a kiss to the crown of her head, he pulls away. "You don't have to be alone. You know that, right?"

"Right."

She croaked it out, but he heads for the door, anyway. When it latches behind him, she is finally able to take in deep and shaking breaths.

She tries to swallow down the terror and pain in her throat, but the sun rises before she can find sleep again and Stiles calls before she can think about not going to school.

 

 

 

Erica catches herself against yet another tree and curses the closeness of the woods, the claustrophobic clustering of the trees. Her sneakers are leaking the mud in, causing a nauseous squelch with every pace.

She hurts, her ribs from the collision course she seems to make with every tree, her lungs from the way her ribs refuse to let them continue expanding, unheeded.

Beacon Hills is close; she knows it and can feel it in her blood. Something is waiting for her there; a pack is waiting for her there and will always be waiting for her, has been waiting since she left.

Six months? Maybe six months. She follows that pull, screaming 'home' and 'pack' at her complete being, until she reaches houses and homes.

Her claws are out, her face a mess of ridges and fur. There are a few ways to reach her destination.

The pull tugs her so many ways and she feels the need to run back into the woods, to a place in town she has never been and, then, to a place further than either. One pull is harder than the others, back near the school but growing stronger and faster than the others are.

It would be faster to go through town, but her claws are out and have been for weeks. She tries to shift back but neither her claws nor fangs will blunt and the extra hair stays where it is, making her sweat. In worrying her lip, she opens it until it bleeds before she can stop herself.

Around. She can go around, she reasons and she wipes the blood from her mouth. The distance is further, but she can see the low, fat moon hanging ahead and the entire town trying to sleep through a thoughtless night.

The pull helps her navigate and keeping the moon at her front makes her swell with the knowledge that soon, she will be home.

Suddenly, she lands hard on her left arm, elbow pressing into her tender ribs with a weight on her that feels at once like the most right anything has ever been, and the terror of not knowing.

 

 

 

Stiles called to tell him that there were calls on the scanner about a feral girl on the outskirts of town.

Scott keeps close to the woods; another call about _another_ prowling teenage is the last thing that the Sheriff needs. And, frankly, he is having a little trouble keeping his furrier aspects in check. He expected that as soon as his eyes burned red, though, so it comes as little surprise. Luckily, some other aspects of his early career as a werewolf have held back.

He has no desire to kill anyone or any other extreme possibilities. No urge to see _or_ kill Stiles, and his mom is safe. Allison is safe. He can concentrate as he stalks the tree line, senses honed into the search for an Omega or a scared girl. The moon helps, his recent power up makes everything sharper and gives him more distance to his senses.

About a half mile from his house, the source of the reports becomes obvious. A shabby Omega with long, snarled hair and a speed that means she is _definitely_ in a hurry to get somewhere. Scott waits for her to get closer before he bowls into her right side and tries to avoid hurting her _or_ letting himself get hurt.

Her panic emanates from her and he feels weird knowing that, but not enough to distract himself from trying to get her bound. "Hey, hi," he yells out, dodging a swipe of her claws. "Hey! I'm not going to hurt you!"

He catches her claw on the next swipe, the other trapped under her, and pins it behind her. When he reaches over to pull her hair away, he has to concentrate hard to keep his hold on her. "Erica?"

 

 

 

The first time Stiles' phone rings, his room is still dark. His excuse for not getting it at that point is a combination of the time, still dark!, and the nightmares that plagued him until just the last hour.

The second time, the room is gauzy dark. He can make out the posters on his walls and the random things strewn across his desk, but he would still classify it as 'dark'.

The third and last time, light is streaming through the gaps in his blinds. Officially day, then, he thinks as he reaches for the phone.

"Whassah?" he asks, maybe seventy percent intelligible at most.

"Stiles! Where have you been?"

"Scotty, man it's…" He pulls the phone away long enough to squint at the time. "It's not even six-thirty," he complains as he puts it back against his ear, throwing off the blankets anyway. "What's up?" he asks, then yawns as one rises, unbidden, in the middle of the word.

Scott pauses before he asks, "Can you miss first period?"

He grabs a shirt off the top of his dresser and sniffs it. "Wolf stuff? What happened?"

He juggles the phone and the shirt, eventually managing to get the shirt on as Scott explains, "So, last night you told me about those call ins? I went out and I found her." Scott pauses. "Stiles?"

He pulls off his boxers as he grabs a clean pair. "Yeah. I'm here, listening."

"It's…" Scott hesitates for a second before he announces, "It's Erica."

He trips as he tries to pull on the new pair, toppling onto his side. "Excuse me?" This is another dream. He holds up his hand. No, not a dream.

Scott obviously blows out a breath. "It's Erica. She's alive, and she's on my couch."

"Did…" He shoves his feet into the boxers before he pulls himself up. Considering that they thought Erica was _dead_ , there has to be more to this story. There _has to be_ more to this story. There has to be someone who might know something. "Did you call Derek?"

The silence is answer enough, but Scott eventually starts in, "I don't really…should I? He's not an Alpha anymore. He's gone…"

"Yeah," Stiles agrees, pulling on jeans, finally. "But he made her a werewolf, and he has more experience with werewolfing. And, if you piss her off, she will hit you in the face with car parts." He shrugs. "Just leave him a message."

"So I should definitely call Derek?"

Curling his lip in distaste, Stiles sighs. "Yeah, you should."

After a pause, Scott clears his throat softly. "Could you call Allison and let her know? I texted her about the Omega sightings last night, so I want to make sure--"

"I got you, dude." He nods. "And, by the way, yeah. I can miss first period. I'll be over after I call her."

"Thanks, Stiles."

He bites the inside of his lip when Scott hangs up. As worried as Scott was about calling Allison, Stiles is just as nervous. The three of them have been at an awkward disconnect since their sacrifice. As much as Scott and Stiles have made their way back together, Allison has weeded her way further from them.

He brings up her contact info and dials through, anyway. This is important. He can do something important for Scott.

 

 

 

Scott looks vaguely panicked when Allison walks into his living room with Stiles, but tamps it down quickly enough that she barely notices.

Erica, sitting on the couch and staring at her hands, quickly takes up her attention. Her claws are part of the way out, and pop further when she growls out her frustration. On a closer look, Allison can see the hand Scott has on her wrist and the black lines twisting their way up the sleeve of his tee shirt.

"Derek didn't answer, so I left him a message," Scott says, finally interrupting whatever Stiles was going on about. "Deaton thinks we just need to wait."

Allison hesitates for a minute before she sits in the riveted chair across from the couch. "Is she okay?"

Erica growls and a rank smell reaches Allison. It takes her a moment to realise that the smell is Erica.

"She'll get better," Scott offers, placing his free hand on the dirty skin at the side of Erica's neck. The beta calms slowly, eyes darting between him and Allison nervously.

"Did Deaton say that, or you?"

Looking up at Stiles suddenly, Scott asks, "Does it matter?"

"I need to know if I'm working with optimism or decades of being a cryptic bastard," Stiles shoots back. He starts chewing on the corner of his thumbnail. "Where's your mom?"

"Three of four."

Pacing the same three feet of carpet at the end of the coffee table, Stiles nods. He continues to chew on his nail, glancing over at Erica on every turn like he expects her to lunge.

Allison rubs her palms on her knees and sighs. "So, have you tried to coach her at all?"

"Coach her?" Scott asks, looking confused.

It sure would have been nice if Derek had stuck around long enough to tell Scott how to be an alpha. "Yes. You can coach her through. Use something to try to focus her on the shift. Some kind of repeated phrase?"

"Like 'om'?" Stiles asks, looking at her like she lost some respect points.

"I was thinking something _grounding_. Uhm. There are stories in the bestiary about werewolves giving up fighting and using chants to maintain their composure under threat."

"Oh! Oh, oh, oh!" Stiles jumps a little. "I saw that. Try, uhm, 'Wolf. Werewolf. Man.'"

Allison narrows her eyes. "Really? That one?"

Stiles gives her a sharp look before explaining to Scott, "It's simple. Just, try it."

Moving to sit on the coffee table in front of Erica, Scott holds onto her arm and starts, uncertainly, to repeat the phrase. After a few minutes, he holds up his free hand and starts shifting it with the words.

Erica concentrates on it, then, holding up her own hand and starting to grumble a close approximation of the words.

it takes time and Allison feels like she has to hold her breath, like this is a moment she was never meant to see and is invading.

Stiles watches with his hands held over his mouth. It might be the most self-control she has ever seen him exhibit.

She flexes her fingers, digging them into the skin above her knees, before she propels herself up. No one asks why she leaves the room, so she wanders into the kitchen and takes her time starting a pot of coffee.

 

 

 

Erica can keep it back, mostly. Scott and Stiles are downstairs, talking mildly and making obvious, fidgety movements with their coffees.

Erica wants coffee, for the hot to burn down her throat and drive away the chill that refuses to be shook off.

Instead, she sits cross-legged on Scott's bed, facing the door while she waits for Allison.

The last time she and Allison were alone in Scott's room, they were far from 'allies'. Apparently they are, now. Derek is gone; he rescinded his alpha power and gave Scott his blessing before disappearing. No one has been able to reach him since, but Scott seems sure that Derek will return when he gets the message about Erica's return.

Allison walks in with her arms full of stuff and drops everything on the bed. "Okay, so, Scott uses a two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, I just don't think it works. Especially not for the hair you have going on now. I got you some scrubs and a sports bra from Scott's mom, I don't really know how much of your…" She waves a hand at her chest. "Well, everyone likes support. I got some conditioner, too, and a comb, but I don't know if your hair will survive the ordeal."

"I'm not attached," Erica offers, looking at the pile of things. There are two towels and some socks, too, as well as a toothbrush. She yearns to brush her teeth and so grabs that, ripping open the cardboard on the back of the plastic bubble. "Thanks," she offers, not kindly, before she gets up and heads for the bathroom.

Allison follows with the things, setting everything out. She hangs the towels for easy access, puts the fresh clothes on a shelf and sets the hair things on the edge of the tub. After a fidgeting pause, she starts the shower. "Do you like it hot or really hot? I know how Scott likes it, but I don't know if it's werewolf related or Scott related."

Erica brushes her teeth vigorously, but holds out her free hand in a 'thumbs up' and jabs it up a few times. Hopefully, Allison gets the hint.

"Really hot, then. I know you can probably do this, but his shower is weird."

Erica nods, wishing she would go away.

She hesitates. "Do you want to wash your clothes or…burn them?"

Looking down, Erica spits in the sink. "I'm not attached."

"Right."

Allison does leave, which lets Erica finally strip down and climb in the shower. The water is perfectly hot and she manages to wash her hair four times. It still has a gross level to it, but she needs to get out the knots, so she slathers it in conditioner and tries to comb it out. Most of it comes, but some is to no avail.

Still, she feels a world of better after scrubbing at her skin until it glows pink. Her mouth tastes like mint and she smells like a frat boy, one is more of an improvement than the other.

Before she gets dressed, she wraps herself in a towel and squeezes her hair out.

Allison is sitting on the bed when she walks out, so she hands her the comb. "I need help."

"Oh. Okay." Allison shifts back so Erica can sit in front of her. "Did the shower help?"

"I feel more human, if that's what you mean."

"No, I…I'm going to go get the conditioner. You have some burrs in here."

Erica shrugs. "Conditioner, scissors. Either is fine."

Allison hesitates, but comes back a minute later with both. "Just in case," she explains, needlessly, and settles in behind Erica again.

Neither of them says anything for a while, while Allison slathers conditioner through Erica's hair and untangles the hair from the burrs.

Finally, Erica has to break the silence. "Boyd didn't come back."

Allison pauses. "Uhm." After a minute, she starts to comb again. "He was captured by the Alpha Pack and held captive. We got him back but." She stops and moves to sit next to Erica, instead of behind her. "I'm sorry."

Erica has to make herself breathe. The one thing that got her through was the certainty that if she got away, so did Boyd.

"They told him you were dead. We all thought you were."

"Did you do it?" Erica asks, looking over at her. She feels broken, like her last bit of hope in the world has been shattered.

Allison looks hurt, but seems to get over it quickly. "No." She waits for a moment before she goes on, "That part isn't my story to tell."

After a too-long silence, Allison moves back behind her and futzes with the comb for a few minutes before she grabs the scissors and just starts to cut hair off.

When she finishes, she combs through Erica's hair. "Go wash that out and get dressed. We have coffee downstairs."

 

 

 

Erica wakes up from a nap in Scott's bed to Stiles trying to wake up Allison. "Allison, Ally A." He goes to shake her and Erica grabs his hand in a split second.

"Let her sleep." She drops his hand and curls back into herself. "Let me sleep. Go away."

"She was only supposed to miss first hour. And it's almost time for third," Stiles offers, sounding pained about it. Scott definitely put him up to this.

She and Allison fell asleep while Allison was trying to get her caught up on French III. Never mind that she missed the French II finals.

Stiles hesitates and Erica glares at him. "But, hey, if she needs to sleep then she needs to sleep. I'll just call her dad so he knows where she is."

Erica nods and turns over, not drifting back off until Stiles finally thunders down the stairs.

The next time she wakes up, Allison is panicking in her sleep and Scott rushes into the room. She watches as he soothes her through it without waking her up, running fingers through her hair and rubbing small circles on her shoulder, whispering to her.

Stiles watches from the doorway, looking decidedly uncomfortable and torn about it for most of the time before he wanders over. "C'mon, Allison, you got this," he mutters, squeezing her elbow. "Shoot it, just fucking shoot it."

Allison calms and both boys look at Erica, and then one another, before they stand up. "Nightmares," Stiles offers, awkwardly.

"I'm just downstairs if it happens again," Scott promises.

Either way, Erica finds her hand in the crook of Allison's elbow when she falls back asleep. It might keep Allison from waking her up again, anyway.

The next time she wakes up, Allison is gone. Well, further away. She rolls over and Allison is in the chair in the corner, Isaac sitting on the footlocker beside it. They pull apart when Isaac notices Erica waking up, getting up. His fingers move at his sides, awkwardly, as he takes the few steps over and stands next to the bed.

As Erica sits up, he tries to smile. "Hey."

"I'm going to do that," Allison offers, standing up. Erica has no idea what 'that' is, but Allison leaves too quickly for her to ask.

Isaac sits on the edge of the bed like he feels comfortable there, and Erica sits up to even the playing field. He could be mad at her for leaving, for surviving when Boyd…

"She's going into the city to pick up some things for your…backstory."

"Backstory?"

Isaac sighs. "You've been gone about six months. So, Scott and Stiles came up with an idea."

Erica eyes him. "What's the idea?"

"Melissa and Allison are driving into the city and putting together a 'runaway' bag. Clothes, snacks, toothpaste. And a wig. Allison is going to take a bus back into town tomorrow morning, dressed as…you. She'll head to Stiles' house, where you will be. Then the sheriff will take you into the station for questioning, contacting your family and all that."

"Oh." She pushes back the mess of her hair. "Why would I go to Stiles' house?"

Isaac shrugs. "We have the sheriff on standby, mostly. But he's also closest to the bus station of everyone, you and Stiles got along better than you and Allison or you and Scott. Derek is…incommunicado and probably shouldn't be involved, anyway.

"He was investigated pretty heavily when you guys left, so keeping him out of it is best."

"So, that's the plan? You switch out Allison and me at Stiles' house and the sheriff takes me in?"

Isaac shrugs. "I guess."

"And these are the guys who foiled Derek's every plan?"

"Yep."

Erica nods. "Okay, then."

 

 

 

Allison shows up at the sheriff's house at four thirty in the morning, with a battered Jansport backpack, a Diamondbacks cap and a giant hoodie.

All told, she did pretty well putting together the bag. Erica had almost the same thing for a few months; she just had Woolite instead seltzer tablets.

The wig closely matches Erica's hair, considering that they left without even taking a picture.

Stiles waves them upstairs. "Go, take a shower. Dad is off shift at five, so be ready, I guess."

He drops into sleep on the couch before they reach the top of the stairs.

"You are not a blonde," Erica notes, grabbing the bag from Allison. "Your clothes are in Stiles' room."

They part ways without Allison saying anything and Erica washes her hair with Stiles' dandruff shampoo.

She squeezes out her hair when she finally feels clean, and pulls on a pair of panties and some jeans. Allison apparently picked out a bra. The fit is okay, not great but at least it runs a little big, instead of small.

Once she brushes her teeth, she wanders back out to Stiles' room with the backpack in tow, and is entirely unprepared for Allison to be wearing the wig, still.

"The glue solvent is in your bag," she offers, grabbing it and a pack of hair ties. "Can you help me with this?" She pulls the hair of the wig into a loose ponytail.

"If we don't be careful, all this haircare will turn us into gal pals," Erica notes, taking the tube when Allison hands it to her.

Allison bites at her lip but sits instead of saying anything. Erica applies the solvent and then sits next to her while they wait.

After not quite a minute, Allison starts, "I was going through a lot of things before you left and I didn't handle it well. But I've worked hard to make it clear that I'm on a different mission now and I want to prove that to you, too. I'm sorry about hunting you, and the willful lack of compassion I showed."

"Yeah, well, sorry I tried to steal your boyfriend."

Allison cracks a smile. "It kind of pales, especially when you consider that we aren't together anymore."

Erica glances around. "Is it just me, or are he and Stiles…?"

"World's worst kept secret," Allison confirms. "Which is good. Stiles makes him happy, and I want that."

"That's very chivalrous."

Allison shrugs, then reaches up to pull at the lace of the wig and checks it. After a test pull, she starts to lift the edges. "If anyone deserves to be happy, it's Scott. And I don't 'get it', but that's more because Stiles is stuck as an annoying little brother type in my head." She keeps pulling at the edges of the wig. "There's a belt over on the desk, by the way. Those jeans are probably a little loose."

Erica nods and watches Allison pull at the glue. "He has nightmares, too."

Allison pauses for a moment. "Yeah."

"It was bad, wasn't it?"

It takes Allison a deep breath before she answers. "Boyd wasn't all we lost."

Erica tries to think of something to say, or ask, as a car pulls into the driveway. "Sheriff's home."

"Good luck with the interrogation," Allison offers with a lift of her eyebrows. "Remember; deny any and all medical care. Don't mention Derek and, if they ask about him--"

"I know, Stiles briefed me on the script."

Allison shakes her head as she finally pulls the wig free. "That's if the sheriff does it. Did he prep you? The sheriff is just getting off shift, they might insist on sending him out."

Erica leans back. "We went over everything. Be vague, all of that. You protect Derek now?"

"I protect my friends," Allison offers. "Don't forget your bag."

After a pause, processing that, Erica shoves the clothes Allison was wearing into the bag and laces the belt through her loops. "So, why are you helping me? Why did you go through all of that for me?"

Allison looks at the window for a minute, until Stiles calls up for them, then back to Erica with a smile. "Lydia's too short and too curvy. No one else could've done it."

Erica waves a hand. "Yeah, well, thanks."

"You're welcome," Allison replies, after Erica is already out of the room. The thought is what counts.

 

 

 

Erica likes sleeping in her own bed and eating sandwiches that she puts together, instead of taking out of a plastic triangle.

She likes catching up on schoolwork, she likes that they leave her out of werewolf business, for now.

Sometimes, Erica likes that Allison comes over and helps her with her assignments. She likes the pizza Allison brings over, or doughnuts, and the movies she brings, "Because French III is just kind of dry."

She likes the purple shirt Allison wore to Stiles' house that morning, and the Ninja Turtles yelling 'Cowabunga!' from her chest.

She even likes being grounded, being normal, being a sixteen-year-old girl.

She only gets to have Allison over, "No boys," her dad insists. She kisses his cheek for it. Lydia apparently holds a grudge about the 'trying to kill her' thing, even after Erica apologises. She shows up twice in the week and a half Erica is home, both times with Allison and both time for school-related reasons.

Erica hardly minds, she prefers to spend the time with Allison, anyway.

When she finally gets to go back to school, she gets to sit next to Allison at lunch and talk to Isaac when he sits across from her. She meets Kira and listens while everyone talks about what weird things are happening. She pieces together that the past few months were a nightmare.

Derek returns on Halloween and is brought in for questioning about Erica, and about Boyd.

They let him go, though, with nothing to hold him on, and the sheriff in his corner.

"His sister came back, he didn't know she survived. But she was with Boyd when we found him," Allison fills in, like she does all the time now. "I think she…did something to the twins."

It takes another week before Erica is ready to see him and, instead of jumping straight in, she sits down with Allison in her bedroom and tells her, "I'm ready to know everything." She has no desire to be unprepared to see Derek.

Allison waits for a moment and passes Erica her white chocolate mocha. "Are you sure?"

"I can't hide from it forever," Erica points out. She wraps her fingers around the cup and shrugs. "I'm a werewolf."

Smiling, Allison picks fuzz off the sweater Erica put on this morning. "All right. But I can't tell you everything, some of that is for Derek and Isaac."

Erica nods. "I can accept that."

Allison spends two hours telling her about Jennifer and the Alpha Pack, about trying to stay out of it and about developing a new code.

She hesitates after that, but explains the nightmares and why Stiles' textbooks are recorded on his phone in the voices of everyone else. She explains that she bothers Erica so much because being alone makes it worse, even though it rings less true than every other comment.

Erica grabs her hand and squeezes. "You're not bothering me."

"Well, I told my story. So now I get to ask something."

For a moment, Erica thinks about worrying but it never comes. "Okay."

Allison smiles and links their fingers together. "What happened to the dominatrix wardrobe?"

"My parents threw it away the day I came home and told me I didn't have anywhere to wear that stuff, anyway, because I wasn't leaving the house until I turned thirty," Erica answers with an honest grin. "Why?" She asks. She bites at the inside of her lip, just a little. "Do you miss it?"

She almost panics but Allison breaths out a laugh and shakes her head. "No." Before Erica can feel disappointed, she goes on, "Comfy-casual works for you."

Erica clears her throat and takes a sip of her mocha. "Well, not everyone can pull off the modern day Snow White wardrobe."

With an open-mouthed, fake-offended grin, Allison gasps. "If I have to be Snow White, you're getting a makeover."

She hopes Lydia has a good sense of humour.

 

 

 

She avoids seeing Derek, still. Not knowing feels easier than knowing, and she kind of enjoys being normal.

For the first time, she goes to school and knows that, by the end of the day, nothing will change.

Her seizures are a thing of the past and the vixen attention is long past. She goes; she does her work and hangs out with her friends.

If she talks to Derek, that makes it official. Talking to Allison mattered, Erica feels obligated to know what happened and to protect her friends and pack. Getting back into the entire deal is something she has to do, it feels important, but at the same time…

Erica is afraid.

So, she avoids it and Derek. She sends his calls to voicemail and texts him back. She manages never to be alone with him, drags Allison or Isaac everywhere with her and happily abides by her parent's grounding.

Allison hands her a plate as she climbs onto the couch. "You're avoiding Derek?"

"You noticed?" She grabs two sliced out of the pie on the coffee table and starts pulling at the mushrooms.

Grabbing her own slices, Allison offers, "Well. Yes. And so did everyone else, so Derek asked Scott about it, who asked Isaac, who asked me."

Dropping mushrooms on Allison's plate, Erica shrugs.

"It's really important that you talk to him."

Erica holds out a mushroom until Allison grabs it with her teeth. "Fine."

Allison narrows her eyebrows as she chews. "Really? It's that easy? Derek has been calling you daily."

Erica grabs the remote. "You have very convincing eyes."

"What are convincing eyes?" Allison asks, leaning in with a grin.

The DVD comes on and Erica looks over just in time for Allison to pull back. "They're…eyes. That can convince me to do stuff."

Allison leans back in and kisses Erica before she leans back again. "Stuff like that?"

"You don't need convincing eyes for that," Erica counters, leaning toward Allison.

With one more kiss, Erica buzzes but Allison pulls away. "There's more where that came from after you finish Intouchables."

Erica glances at the television, then back. "So, I watch yet another impenetrable French movie--"

"Film."

"Film, I get to kiss you?"

"Yes. And if you talk to Derek, I'll take you to the Sherlock Holmes movie."

Erica grins. "You think we can go on a date at a time like this?"

Grabbing Erica's free hand, Allison leans back into the cushions. "Well, it doesn't come out for a few more weeks. Maybe things will cool off by then."

 

 

 

Things cool off by then, but things with Derek are wrong.

In the meantime, Erica has no idea if the movie is any good. Allison is definitely a distraction.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there, thank you so much for reading! For my own reasons, I'm no longer in Teen Wolf fandom and so I neither read nor write TW fic anymore. If you want more, I have a few left on this account and I welcome you to check them out (psst, it's all femslash).
> 
> If you want to find out what I'm up to these days, [my Tumblr](http://matrya.tumblr.com/) is generally more up-to-date.


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